ainter's eye, following the indication,
detected the figure of his mysterious and prophetic visitor. But the
countenance of the unknown was milder, softer; a veil of brightness
had fallen upon the more repulsive lineaments, and when the broad
daylight beamed into the apartment, his image melted into the ray,
like a rain-drop into a sunny sea. A thrill ran through the painter's
frame; he gazed upon the face of Esther; it was that of death.

* * * * *

An unfinished painting rests upon an easel; it is a glimpse of
paradise. In the centre is a focus of almost intolerable splendor, the
luminous veil of the Inconceivable and Infinite; while towards it, as
if drawn by a vortex of glory, yet held in suspense when too near,
hovers a cloud of radiant forms and faces, their souls, pure and
beatified, beaming from their countenances, all full of adoration,
intelligence, and bliss. The painter sat before it, giving the last
touches with a feeble yet graceful hand. A light seemed to stream upon
him from the picture, and lit up his pale, inspired countenance.

The door opened, yet the painter turned not from his task; he heard no
footstep, yet he knew that the messenger--no longer feared, but hoped
for--was standing at his side.

"One touch more," he said, softly. "Thus 'tis done, and bravely done!"

He turned--the mysterious messenger was truly there. But as the
painter gazed, the herald's form was transfigured; his poor garments
had given place to shining raiments; his countenance beamed glory and
goodness; effulgent wings expanded their snowy plumage from his
glorious shoulders, and on his forehead shone a star like that of
morning. He touched the mortal hand that throbbed to meet his clasp;
the last film fell from the painter's eye, and he saw, with ecstasy,
no horrid phantom, but AZRAEL, the Angel of Death, great,
beautiful, and good.

THE LATE ELIAS MUGGS,

CAPTAIN IN THE M. V. M.

Elias Muggs is no more! Hepzibah Muggs is a widow; a stranger has
purchased the stock of West India goods, and the Bluetown Fusileers
are commanded by the first lieutenant. These are sad changes.

It is not a little remarkable that though Captain Elias Muggs was not
born in the same year as the Duke of Wellington, (though, by the way,
every body else seems to have been,) yet he died about the same time.
There was a striking similarity between their characters and
positions. The Iron Duke was commander